


No prison, no shrine

by LiveOakWithMoss



Series: The Great Nargothrond Threesome Project [4]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: (Curvo is an artist afterall), Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Cousin Incest, Highly tasteful chains, Highly tasteful cock rings, M/M, Multi, Oh my god this is the kinkiest thing I've ever written, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Sibling Incest, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 09:35:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3605238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/pseuds/LiveOakWithMoss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Surely, if Finrod takes the lead this time he will remain in control of the wild pair he takes to his bed. (Spoilers: he doesn't.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	No prison, no shrine

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Tender not the night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2037612) by [LiveOakWithMoss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/pseuds/LiveOakWithMoss). 



> 0\. I thought I was done with the Nargothrorgy. I was wrong.  
> 1\. Explicitly a sequel to Tender not the Night.  
> 2\. Explicitly everything else, too.  
> 3\. Written in approximately three hours, which shall be my excuse for any batshit nuttiness and the fact that this may be the filthiest thing I've ever written.

_This time,_ he thought _, we shall be in my territory._

This time, that he had thought about for so many long, empty nights, would be worth all the tormented dreams and endlessly frustrated fantasies. It would be worth the long council meetings, dull as peat, but made infuriating by the way one of them smirked at him across the table and the way the other licked his lips deliberately and brushed an overly innocent hand over his brother’s shoulder. It would be worth having to sit with crossed legs for an hour, his frustration throbbing persistently between his legs, his cursedly sharp memory providing him with too much distracting fodder for his fantasies.

 _This time_ , he thought _, it shall be on my terms. I shall not be taken by surprise, because I shall arrange it myself. And this time, I shall make them pay for all their teasing._

Or so he had thought, up until the moment they bound him naked to his own bedpost and knotted a scarf between his teeth.

Somewhere along the line, things had not gone as planned.

 

-

 

In many ways, it had begun much as it had before. Finrod had made his way down to Curufin’s forge, his footsteps steady and assured this time, not bothering to be quiet; no hesitation for him this time, no being taken by surprise. _On my terms_. But for all his determination and preparation, he could not stop a sharp intake of breath as he crossed the lintel into the forge and saw the two he sought.

Celegorm was seated in the forge’s lone chair – which, Finrod had decided, Curufin kept only for his brother, as Finrod had never seen him sitting in it himself. Though he supposed that Curufin was sitting in it now, in a way. Curufin was draped over his brother’s lap, more languorous and relaxed than he ever was in anyone else’s presence. He had an arm wrapped loosely around Celegorm’s neck and was smiling, his eyes hooded, as Celegorm muttered something too quiet for Finrod to hear into his ear. One of Celegorm’s hands was wrapped around Curufin’s waist, the other was busily undoing Curufin’s long, neat braid where it fell over his shoulder.

Curufin’s eyes flicked up as Finrod stepped into the light cast by the lamps – etched with small, eight-pointed stars – that were hung around the forge. He didn’t look at all surprised to see his cousin, and merely smiled in a rather self-satisfied way.

“I told you he’d come tonight,” he said, and Celegorm twisted his head around to regard the doorway. There was a light in his eyes that was momentarily anything but Elven, feral and dangerous, and Finrod felt a delicious curl of fear twist low in his belly.

_This is why you cannot stop thinking about them._

“I do hope I’m not interrupting,” he said, as calm and polite as if he’d interrupted a game of cards, rather than Celegorm’s fingers playing suggestively over his brother’s chest. “Please forgive my unannounced visit.”

“Oh, you announced it clearly enough,” said Curufin, who had not taken his eyes from Finrod since he entered the room. “You announced it today as clearly as if you’d issued a proclamation, the way you stared and shifted in your seat and couldn’t hold still. It was most out of character for you, my lord, to be so _obviously_ distracted.”

“Not to mention,” Celegorm put in, “that you’ve smelled like a bitch in heat for the past week.”

Finrod flinched, but couldn’t help licking his lips at the coarseness of Celegorm’s words. _Eru, the effect they have on me_.

Curufin rolled his eyes but just settled himself more comfortably on Celegorm’s lap. “Well said. So, cousin, don’t let us take the words from your mouth. Do enlighten us as to why you sought us out in our den of depravity.” His eyes glittered as he spoke, and Finrod would swear that it was with benign amusement that he was being regarded.

 _You are the one approaching them_ , he told himself. _Do not let them unsettle you, do not give them the advantage._

 _They always have the advantage,_ a smaller, wiser part of his mind told him, but he ignored it.  

“It is about this ‘Den of Depravity’, as you so eloquently put it, that I have come to speak.” He made an elegant gesture with one hand, taking in the room, and two pairs of eyes fixed on this movement like cats watching a bird just out of reach. Finrod twisted his fingers lightly before lowering his hand, and noted with satisfaction how Curufin’s chest rose and fell with a drawn breath. Finrod had rather fine hands, he knew, and his cousins were not the only ones with eyes. He too had been watching them, and noted in particular how Curufin’s attention would be drawn, hungrily, not to his eyes or his mouth as he spoke, but to the movements of his hands, the curl of his fingers.

 _You may see much of me, and your brother smell my intent, even, but I can_ read you _, Curufinwë Atarinkë._

“I have been thinking,” he went on, apparently oblivious of how he was being watched, “that it must get restrictive in such quarters. So small, so close, with only hard surfaces…”

“Nothing wrong with hard surfaces,” growled Celegorm, and his arm around Curufin’s waist tightened. “I _like_ it hard.”

“Evidently,” said Finrod lightly, as Curufin sighed at this crudely put statement. “But I thought that perhaps, an environment with slightly more room…a varied topography…might broaden the _scope_ of certain opportunities.”

“Varied topography?” Celegorm let out a bark of laughter. “Are you suggesting we engage in a bit of light cartography tonight, Findaráto?”

“No,” said Curufin, and his eyes, still, were fixed on Finrod. “My goodness, brother, I believe we are being invited to the King’s bedchambers.”

 

-

 

All the way up the long stairs and empty halls – it was quite late, Finrod having chosen the time with a thought to who might be awake to see their odd procession – Finrod’s thoughts hummed with possibility. _This time_ , he thought eagerly _, this time perhaps I will finally be able to be the one commanding him, be the one to lead with touch and suggestion, the one to overwhelm him with pleasure and leave him speechless beneath me, breathless to my touch. And as for his brother…_ Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of Celegorm watching him, and there was nothing of humor or indulgence in his expression. He was watching Finrod with distrust and a slight sneer, and when he caught Finrod looking at him, he winked, curling his lip to reveal a white, slightly too sharp incisor. Finrod hastened on.

At last Finrod cast open the doors to his chambers, and Curufin stepped in, light and curious as a cat.

“How very well appointed,” he said, moving over to the vast, canopied bed. “How many seamstresses worked their fingers to the quick on this embroidery, hm?” He bent to inspect the quilts critically. “Heavy on the gold, but skillfully done, I suppose.” He tilted his head back to examine the hangings draped over the bed’s canopy, and ran light fingers over a dangling tassel. “Heavier than I would have expected for you, but befitting a lord of such dignity and wealth.”

Celegorm, meanwhile, was running his hands over the bedpost closest him. “White oak,” he said approvingly. “Less likely to splinter than that mahogany composite, do you remember, Curvo…?”

“Carpentry aside,” drawled Curufin, turning back to Finrod, “this will do quite nicely.”

“Do – ” Finrod had barely gotten the word past his lips when Curufin was seizing him by the collar and pulling him close.

“Very nicely,” Curufin breathed again, his breath hot on Finrod’s lips, “I thank you, cousin, for inviting us to your rooms.” He kissed Finrod then, softly enough that Finrod was unprepared for it. He hadn’t mustered his forces against such a tender attack and was immediately overwhelmed. His fingers clutched at Curufin’s shirt, tearing a button or two, and Curufin hummed, kissing Finrod more hungrily, his hands sliding to cup Finrod’s head, tangling in his loose hair, his tongue pressing insistently against Finrod’s lips. Finrod was so quickly lost that he forgot everything but the feel of Curufin’s lips and tongue, the press of their hips together as Curufin dragged him close, and his eyes closed in momentary bliss.

He was therefore entirely unprepared for Curufin breaking away and saying over his shoulder, “Yes, that will do nicely. Strip him, Tyelko, and bind him to the bedpost.”

 

-

 

Curufin had settled back against the pillows of Finrod’s bed, and was watching as Celegorm, who had come up behind Finrod with his usual unnerving silence, pulled the clothes from Finrod’s shoulders.

“How would you like him? Completely immobilized?”

“Hmm, yes. Or very nearly so. The cords from the drapes will work to hold him, of course, though it would be a shame to let my presents go to waste…”

Celegorm grunted as he pulled the last of Finrod’s robes from him. “Presents?”

“Presents?” Finrod repeated. He could have shaken free of Celegorm’s hands, he told himself, it would be easy enough; he was quicker and stronger than he looked, and had faced Celegorm in the practice fields no few times. He thought he knew how to evade his powerful cousin, for all Celegorm’s hands were disturbingly heavy against skin. And yet, Celegorm’s roughness was stirring him almost as much as Curufin’s kiss, so he let himself be manhandled to his knees on the far corner of the mattress.

“Ah yes, that’s right.” Curufin rolled to his feet and retrieved a pouch from the bedside table that Finrod had somehow missed him placing there. He reached in and withdrew something that caught the light, glinting, and for a wild moment, Finrod thought he had drawn a handful of coals from his bag. But instead – gold.

“You should be honored, cousin,” said Curufin, as the gold fell through his fingers like water and he held it up to the light. “I do not forge such things for just anyone.”

Finrod felt Celegorm’s fingers tighten painfully on his wrists.

“But you know how much I enjoy you royally adorned,” Curufin continued. His eyes settled on Finrod’s throat, where the Nauglamir usually gleamed. “And so I thought I would make you some accessories, fit for a king.” He let the gold dangle free from his fingers at last, and Finrod saw what it was: two gold cuffs, attached to each other by a length of fine gold chain. Behind him, Celegorm chuckled, and shook his head, his fair hair brushing against Finrod’s bare shoulder.

“And so you make the cords redundant after all.”

Curufin shrugged. “Perhaps not. We still need to bind his ankles, after all.”

 

-

 

Finrod twisted his wrists behind him experimentally, and pulled lightly at the chains. The cuffs on his wrists were smooth and heavy, quickly warmed by the heat of his skin and didn’t chafe, but the chain rattled against the bedpost and gave not at all. Finrod sank down on his knees and met Curufin’s eyes fearlessly. Curufin was watching him with true hunger now, still propped up against the headboard, his legs lightly spread, and the evidence of his arousal apparent through the material of his breeches.

“So once again, you have me at a disadvantage,” Finrod shot at him. “I hope you enjoy the spectacle.” He tossed his head back so his hair fells shining gold down his back, momentarily rendering the gleam of the chains dull and pedestrian. He strained lightly at his bonds again, knowing what this would do for the swell and pull of muscle in his arms and chest. He was not disappointed by the effect it had; Curufin’s lips parted, his grey eyes going dark with desire, and his tongue wet his lips as he took in every inch of his bound cousin and king. “What now shall you do with me?”

“What shall I do with you?” Curufin swallowed, and Finrod felt a sudden desire to press his teeth to the hollow of his throat, where he could see Curufin’s pulse fluttering. He tugged again on the chains, which slid against the bedpost but didn’t yield, and Curufin sat up slowly.

“What shall I do with you…” Curufin repeated, thoughtfully, and he slid forward on hands and knees until he was inches from Finrod, close enough for them to feel the heat of each other’s bodies. He stretched out a hand, almost hesitantly, and Finrod shuddered in anticipation as Curufin’s fingers came so close to his skin that they brushed the light trail of hair leading from Finrod’s low belly to his groin, and goose bumps immediately broke out over Finrod’s skin. Curufin’s fingers pressed closer still, and Finrod couldn’t hold back a groan as Curufin stroked his hand from Finrod’s stomach to the base of his cock.

“ _Oh_ …”

Curufin’s breathing was quick, and the light in his eyes almost feverish as he studied Finrod’s face. “Are you ready?”

Finrod should have asked for him to be more specific, but he was too far gone.

“Yes.”

“Good.” Curufin’s warm hand was suddenly replaced with something heavy and cool and smooth – clasping around the base of Finrod’s cock. Finrod jerked in shock, and Curufin settled back on his knees, looking pleased.

“What – ”

“You are lucky indeed,” purred Curufin. “I made you not one present – but two.” Behind Finrod – he jumped again, having totally forgotten Celegorm’s presence – rough hands reached between his legs, and Finrod realized that there were chains attached to this particular cuff as well. He could feel the chains, cool and teasing, pressing over his balls and up the cleft of his buttocks, and then Celegorm was fastening them to the chains that bound his wrists as well. Finrod froze, and Curufin caressed his cheek soothingly.

“I have allowed for some slack, no fear,” he said, his voice a gentle mockery of comfort. “But if you resist your bonds too…fiercely…you will know it.”

Celegorm laughed, his mouth suddenly very close to Finrod’s neck as he lifted his heavy hair out of the way. “This is a wonderful look for you,” he murmured, and Finrod felt the hot drag of Celegorm’s tongue against his nape. “It almost makes me understand what my brother sees in you.”

Curufin smiled and reached over Finrod’s shoulder to touch his brother’s cheek, almost exactly as he had stroked Finrod’s. “And you need no adornment at all to be beautiful, brother,” he murmured, and Celegorm seized his fingers and kissed them, sucking one into his mouth before Curufin laughed and pulled back.

“Now, Findaráto,” he said, suddenly serious, and Finrod trembled unexpectedly, hearing his name on his cousin’s lips for the first time that night. “Do you trust me?”

“No,” said Finrod, with total honesty, and Curufin nodded approvingly.

“Good. Gag him, Tyelko.”

 

-

 

_This was not how it was supposed to go._

Finrod pulled on his bonds until the resistance was too much him and then slumped back, panting through the silk scarf knotted between his teeth. It had been a gift from his mother, he thought, and then wished he hadn’t remembered that detail.

 _This was not the plan!_ He wanted to shout, but only a muffled moan escaped through the gag. His arousal throbbing painfully hard between his legs, and restrained by the gold ring, Finrod fell back against the post, thumping his head hard in frustration against the damned, sturdy oak.

Celegorm laughed, breathlessly, and bent forward to whisper in Curufin’s ear, “Your pet grows restless, brother.”

Curufin groaned and didn’t bother to open his eyes. “Good. That was the intent. Now keep going…”

Celegorm laughed again, triumphant, and pressed a decadent kiss to his brother’s throat.

Curufin lay on his side, totally bare, his unbound hair falling over his shoulders. (Finrod wondered when he had last seen Curufin’s hair left totally loose. It made him look oddly vulnerable, and young, and painfully, achingly beautiful.) He was propping himself up on one elbow, but mostly he was supported by his brother’s arms around his chest, holding him steady as Celegorm thrust into him from behind. Curufin had one leg hooked back over Celegorm’s, locking their bodies close together as Celegorm moved into him.

“Yes, Curvo,” Celegorm was whispering to him now, “Yes, brother – by the Horn, you are so beautiful, so fucking beautiful, and you are _mine_ …”

There was something so intimate about the scene before him, as Curufin moaned again, his head falling back on Celegorm’s shoulder and Celegorm whispered deadly love into his ears, that Finrod’s arousal and frustration mixed rather painfully with something sharp in his chest.

_Is it envy?_

_Is it awe?_

_They are beautiful together._

It had begun as an exhibition, a display for his benefit, but now Finrod thought that Curufin had forgotten him entirely. Celegorm hadn’t though, and dark eyes flashed mockingly at him as he dragged his hand down Curufin’s chest to his stomach, and then wrapped around his leaking cock. Finrod jerked in his chains, his own cock throbbing painfully against the constraints of the ring, and Curufin made a noise, rough and low in his throat.  Celegorm laughed joyously, his eyes still fixed on Finrod.

“That’s right, my beauty, let yourself go.”

Finrod was not sure which of them Celegorm was addressing – it might well have been both – but Curufin was the only of the two of them who could obey. He cried out, arching back in Celegorm’s arms, his hand reaching back to clutch so hard on Celegorm’s hip that he left white marks against Celegorm’s browned skin. Finrod gasped and pressed desperately forward, aching, longing to be able to ease the heaviness in his groin, longing for touch, contact, anything that would relieve the aching, tormenting pressure. But none took pity on him, and the ring at the base of his erection would not allow him to come, even when he thought he might not even need touch to reach his climax.

Curufin shuddered, and spilled across the quilts, Celegorm laughing and murmuring encouragement all the while. Curufin slumped down, his head dropping exhausted to his outstretched arm, and Celegorm, still within him, bent over him so their lips could meet. It was as they kissed that Finrod could see Celegorm’s body tighten and shake as he reached his own climax, pressing still deeper into his brother’s body as he rode out his orgasm.

Finrod felt a whimper escape him, past the gag. Sweat was rolling down his temples and chest, stinging in his eyes, his frustration so acute it was close to pain.

Curufin chuckled, his voice roughened and hoarse, hearing Finrod’s muffled sounds of distress. He still let Celegorm kiss him slowly, luxuriantly, before rolling free, his own body gleaming with sweat, his dark hair damp from exertion.

“Ahh,” he murmured, falsely contrite, as he reached out to smooth Finrod’s hair away from his face. “ _Poor_ Ingoldo, how neglected you are…” His hands slipped into Finrod’s hair and behind his head and undid the gag, slipping it gently from between Finrod’s teeth. Finrod meant to rail accusingly against his damned, infuriating cousin, but instead let out a sob of relief as Curufin’s quick hands also freed the bracelets from his wrists.

“ _Curvo_.” His voice was raw even to his own ears, but Finrod was too wrecked to care how pitiable he sounded.

Curufin made soothing noises and gathered him into his arms, only the glitter of his eyes betraying his amusement. “Ah, sweet cousin, how we’ve tormented you,” he crooned, stroking Finrod’s tangled hair and pressing a kiss to each of his reddened wrists. “How you _suffer_ for our games…” His voice held as much cruelty as tenderness, but Finrod didn’t care. He pressed himself desperately against Curufin, hands clutching at his shoulders. The gold ring still held him fast, and when Curufin moved a lazy hand over him, Finrod cried out, then cursed, still unable to reach his release.

“Golden Ingoldo, my shining one, my prince, my…”

“Pet,” whispered a voice, and Finrod jumped at the touch on his leg. Celegorm had laid his head on Finrod’s thigh, watching him lazily, his fingers stroking inward and upward to Finrod’s groin.

“Pet,” Curufin agreed, and there was malicious pleasure in how he lingered over the word. Finrod would have protested, but he felt he was dying by degrees in Curufin’s arms, with Celegorm’s rough fingers tracing up in the inside of his thigh.

“ _Please_ …”

“I suppose we can free you from your torment,” said Curufin, and he kissed Finrod, open mouthed and hungry, as Celegorm slipped free the golden ring and took Finrod into his mouth, all in one movement.

 

\---

 

He expected them to be gone come morning, but to his surprise, Finrod woke before either of them. Curufin lay at his side, their only point of contact the fingers Curufin had laid against the point of Finrod’s hip. Behind Curufin, Celegorm was wrapped around his brother, powerful arms around his waist and his face buried in Curufin’s hair. Curufin stirred as Finrod sat up, but it was Celegorm who said, his voice rusty with sleep, “You going somewhere, Felagund?”

“Not far. I thought to open the curtains.”

“Did you? That will go over well.”

“What do you – ”

“Shut up,” growled Curufin, turning his face into the pillow. “Ingoldo, if you allow blazing sunlight to brutalize my retinas at this time of morning, I will rip your fingers off one by one. And Tyelko, by the damned Valar, could your voice be any louder?”

“Yes,” said Celegorm, unconcerned, and bit at Curufin’s shoulder.

Curufin drove an elbow back into Celegorm’s ribs, but Celegorm seemed not to notice. “ _Beast_.”

"Curvo is not what's known as a 'morning person'," said Celegorm, unnecessarily, as Curufin snarled at him.

Finrod lay back down, feeling surprisingly alert and free of sleep. He stared at the ceiling, his mind turning over curiously even as his body settled into languorous contentment. Fingers alit once more on his hip, and Celegorm and Curufin’s growls at each other turned to murmurs, and then to silence again. He briefly thought he felt the faint brush of lips against his shoulder, but when he looked, Curufin was tucked back against Celegorm, apparently asleep. 

 _Next time_ , Finrod reflected to himself, a wry smile curling his lips, _I shall not even pretend that I can call the terms._

_And what’s more – I shall not even bother pretending that I want to._

_Next time._

 

 


End file.
